


stuck on a bridge between us

by wortfee



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff and Angst, Lack of Communication, M/M, Relationship Problems, they are both artists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 11:36:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5867788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wortfee/pseuds/wortfee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marc never believed in true love. He still doesn't if he is completely honest, but laying together with Rafinha and kissing him until his lips are numb feels dangerously close to it. </p><p>or the one in which Marc is an artist trying to be in control and fails everytime he looks into Rafa's eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stuck on a bridge between us

**Author's Note:**

> this happened because i felt sad today and listened to too much troye sivan (check fools & talk me down out it is amazing)  
> i don't know, i don't think this is that good if i am honest, but i am still strangely attached to this thing, whatever it is.

Marc needs to be in control. He doesn't let things go out of hand and he doesn't trust other people with important things, not when he can do it by himself. It's not that he thinks he is better than everyone, but Marc has an urge, he wants perfection in every little thing that he does, and he knows that a lot of people don't care for the perfection of little things or don't understand why it is important to him, so he just does it by himself.

So when he meets Rafinha for the first time, covered in sweat and something that looked a lot like blue paint, he was half-intrigued and half-confused. Because for a moment Marc asked himself how it was possible for a person to look this messy and beautiful at the same time.

"I am Rafael," and Rafinha had a smile that was more beautiful than anything else Marc laid his eyes on. "You can call me Rafinha. Or Rafa, or whatever you like, really." He is smiling again, white teeth and brown skin, full lips and sparkling eyes.

"My name's Marc," Marc says, and he isn't one to smile at basically strangers who are named Rafael, but he does. And when he gets a smile in return, he feels like he's able to see all the beauty in Rafael, the beauty in his sweaty, messy hair and the beauty in his perfectly sculpted body.

 

~

 

Rafael, or Rafa as Marc calls him, goes to a college near his. It's specialized on art and social sciences and Marc never heard of it even though it is only two and a half minutes with his car away. The building looks old and crooked, and Marc takes a moment to search for the beauty in the battered walls and badly painted doors, but he doesn't find any.

Rafa also goes out often and drags Marc with them, downing shot after shot of Tequila and after Marc introduced Rafa to German beer and German Jägermeister, they spend their nights in the parks around Marc's flat, stretched out on the grass and sharing bottles of beer and Jägermeister. Marc always drinks two bottles beer and four sips of the Jägermeister bottle because that is the amount of alcohol he always drinks and which leaves him slightly buzzed, but not enough to make a complete fool out of himself.

Rafa drinks like he wants to. Sometimes only one beer, sometimes nothing, sometimes he is so drunk that Marc carries him home, ignoring the passersby that stare at him because he lives in a posh, clean neighbourhood with posh, clean people who never would carry one of their friends bridal style to the metro and in their flat.

 

~

 

The first time Marc kisses Rafa they both aren't drunk and they both aren't in control.

They are at the beach. It took them an hour drive in Marc's car to leave the city and the dust of the hard working people behind them, driving through abandoned streets and forests, until the sun is blinding them, but Rafa doesn't clap the sun shield out, he just closes his eyes and leans into the warmth of the sun. Marc smiles when he looks at Rafa, and Rafa, because he is Rafa and doesn't need to open his eyes, smiles back at him.

"I'll show you my favourite spot," Rafa says when they arrive and takes his hand. They walk through warm sand and slippery stones and when Rafa almost falls, Marc catches him, steadies him and Rafa kisses him. Rafa bites his lip, and Rafa sucks on his tongue and there is only _RafaRafaRafa_ in his mouth, on his mind and under his hands. Marc isn't in control, but he doesn't mind.

"So that's your favourite spot?" Marc asks, grinning and Rafa grins back, but shakes his head. He laughs, head thrown back and lips stretched to their limit.

"No, come on, I'll show you."

 

~

 

"So you are basically together," Ivan says to him, after Marc told him what happened with Rafa on the beach.

"I don't know," Marc answers, and that's it, even though Ivan looks at him a bit worried, but everytime Marc tries to catch his eyes to try to be sure of what Ivan thinks, Ivan looks down at the floor.

 

~

 

Marc spends the majority of his time in Rafa's apartment. He isn't exactly sure if he likes the place or not since it is even messier than Rafa's hair after he plays football. Marc ignores the clothes that are thrown on the floor, and he only throws the food from four days ago in the trash and gives Rafa a little speech about not wasting food and not to aggravate his health with mouldy food.

Rafa says something about that being the artist in him and Marc casually reminds him that he is an artist, too. Rafa only smiles. "Like I could forget any of your drawings," he says and leans forward to kiss Marc. Their kisses are still like their first one, mostly Rafa taking the lead and making him feel like he is a teenager again.

"I'm hungry," Marc says, and Rafa rolls his eyes, but they begin to cook something that is a weird mixture between Mexican and Brazilian food and it doesn't have a recipe and turns out different every time, but Marc doesn't mind that the same way he doesn't mind Rafa's kisses.

"You forgot the chilli," Marc says and stands up to search for chilli in Rafa's cupboards.

"Take the pepper instead," Rafa says, but Marc doesn't and searches for the chilli until Rafa is rolling his eyes and helping him.

"You and your urge to have the perfect amount of chilli in your food," Rafa says, but he still hands him the chilli.

 

~

 

Marc never believed in true love. He still doesn't if he is completely honest, but laying together with Rafinha and kissing him until his lips are numb feels dangerously close to it.

"You are thinking too much," Rafa replies and kisses him harder, and Marc flips him over and he would be able to crush Rafa with his weight or control the kiss, but he does neither. He doesn't need to to feel in control right now.

 

~

 

Marc draws Rafa one time and only one time. It's not exactly Rafa, but it is the forest in greens and browns and the sun blinding him.

His professor smiles and asks him if he wants to send the piece to an art exhibit.

Marc says he needs time for consideration, but he knows that he canvas will end up in Rafa's apartment, hanging left from the blue painting by Rafa, that has the same shade as the ocean and his eyes.

 

~

 

Marc gets angry from time to time. Rafa does, too, and they only try not to let their moods intertwine with their relationship, but let it out in their art. Marc draws reds and oranges, warm colours, while Rafa paints with cool tones, turquoise and blue and green.

When they make out after that, Rafa's paint splattered hands grip Marc's shoulders tightly and leave blue and green and turquoise all over his clothes.

Sometimes it works like that.

 

~

 

Sometimes it doesn't.

"Why the fuck are you like this?" Rafa screams and his hair is messy and his clothes are old and stink and Marc hasn't eaten anything for thirteen and half hours, and he is really pissed off.

"Like what?"

"This," Rafa says and makes some wild gestures with his hands that could be everything and nothing. "Why do you try so hard to be in control, all the time?"

"I don't," he says, even though both he and Rafa know that it isn't the truth.

"See? That's what I mean, seriously Mats sometimes I ask myself if you even have some other emotions than what you are showing. And you are not showing me a lot. I thought it would get better with time, but it doesn't, fuck, why don't you say something?"

Marc gets easily angry, but his anger is mostly directed at himself so people don't really know that. His anger his silent and fuming and lurking behind every little detail that goes wrong.

"You say more than enough for the both us," Marc says, and that's it. Rafa's jaw is tense and he pushes Marc out of the door.

"Sleep somewhere else," he says and the door behind him falls shut. Marc tries to breathe as he walks to the metro and then to his flat, which feels clean and right in every sense that he needs.

 

~

 

Marc's throat is dry, but he can't get up to pour himself a cup because he is still in his flat and Rafa is somewhere else, maybe in his, maybe in college, maybe at the beach. All of these options hurt a bit. He'd get up and just leave orange fingerprints all over his glass if he was at Rafa's, but he isn't and he somehow can't do that in his own flat, so he draws, and draws and draws, until his throat hurts from being dry and there is a sun on the canvas, burning reds and deep oranges and light yellows.

It feels a lot like Rafa's kisses and even more like Rafa's anger, but he doesn't tell his professor any of this when he shows him in the canvas and agrees to show it in an art exhibit.

 

~

 

Marc rings Rafa's door bell at one A.M in the morning. Rafa opens the door to his flat, but he is in his boxers and his eyes are a bit red, probably because he hasn't been sleeping.

"Can I come in?" Marc asks and he points to the bottle of Jägermeister in his hands. Rafa's eyes meet his and they both know they won't be getting drunk anytime soon, but Rafa lets him in anyway and he takes the bottle out of his hand, too.

"I'm sorry," Marc offers.

"I am too," Rafa replies, and it isn't alright and it isn't the end nor the beginning, but Marc bends down to kiss Rafa anyway, and Rafa kisses him like he always does, allows Marc to lose himself in the feeling. Rafa tastes like blueberries and dark chocolate and like the cherry candies he always eats when he is in class.

"I missed you," Marc says, and Rafa smiles against his lips in a way that tells him that everything will be alright, sometime in the future.

 

~

 

"I think you two have some issues," Neymar says, and Ivan nods like he knows their relationship better than they do. It is an Ivan thing to do and Ivan is his best friend, so he doesn't expect anything else. But Rafa is giggly and happy and feeds Marc with pasta they picked up in the Italian restaurant, two corners away from Marc's flat, so he only laughs and flicks Neymar off.

"No, but, like, ugh, Ivan help me?"

"He means you lack communication," Ivan supplies, "And he probably means that you don't really fit, you know?"

"We do," Marc says, and Rafa nods.

"You lack communication or you do fit?" Ivan asks and raises his eyebrows. He never gets an answer because Marc turned the TV up and his favourite football club is playing, while Rafa is still eating and feeding him bits of the pasta from time to time.

"I am serious here, guys," Neymar sighs.

"Sort your own shit out before you worry about ours, alright?" Marc says and cuddles closer against Rafa. There is the pressure back, the pressure to stand up and make things perfect even though they don't need to be.

"So sorry for trying to help," Neymar scoffs, but Marc knows that Ney isn't really angry, only annoyed and maybe worried. He doesn't need to be, at least that is what Marc thinks. Things are good between him and Rafa.

 

~

 

"My parents and my siblings want to meet you," Rafa says.

"You told them?" Marc asks because he certainly didn't tell his parents and at this rate he probably never will.

"Yeah. I tell them almost everything."

Marc wants to say no, wants to keep hiding in Rafa's flat and in parks near his apartment, but Rafa's eyes are sparkling and he knows him well enough to know that this is extremely important for Rafa.

"When are we going to drive to them?"

"Monday, if that's okay? My classes will end earlier than usual so that we both only have until two, and then you could drive us? When my father sees your car, he will already like you anyway," Rafa snorts and then laughs. Marc is surprised, he thought that Rafa would say something like "when he have time" or "when we feel up to it" because that is the way Rafa plans things, he doesn't plan them at all and just lives.

"Since when are you planning stuff?"

Rafa blushes.

"I don't want this to end in a disaster."

 

~

 

It doesn't end up in a disaster, but it doesn't turn out amazing either. Rafa's family is loud and messy and just alive and Marc feels out of place the second he steps into their house. Thiago, Rafa's brother, smiles at him before he gives him the _Hurt Him and I Will Hurt You Speech_ , and Rafa's mother is incredibly nice and asking about a ton of stuff, while his sister and his father just watch them and throw a comment or two in when they feel like it.

Marc has a smile plastered on his face that doesn't feel real at all, doesn't compete with the wide grins and laughs of the Alcantara family, but he isn't able to do something else. He sits and smiles and answers politely and cracks some jokes, and talks with Thiago about football and with his father about cars and with his mother about social studies and with his sister about annoying teachers. It should feel right and easy, but Rafa's eyes are burning everytime he dares to look up at them.

They leave late in the evening.

"How did you like them?" Rafa asks and Marc is thrown-back, didn't expect that question.

"They were great," he says because they were. They were warm and lovely and nothing like him or his family, and his smile was faked but at least they like him now. And that is everything that matters.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, of course. Why are you asking?"

"I am not stupid, Marc. I know you. You had your _I am oh so charming and nice smile_ plastered on your face, the one you use with professors you despise and old people that make inappropriate comments. Don't tell me it wasn't because it was."

It was, Marc wants to say, it was, but not because I don't like them, I was just too afraid they wouldn't like me, they wouldn't find me suitable if they knew how I am, that they would tell you to find someone who is actually funny and friendly and a good person, someone you deserve.

He doesn't and the loud music from the radio is the only sound in the car until they arrive back home.

 

~

 

"I think Ney is right," Marc says, after he gave Rafa a blow job in the shower. Rafa's hands are busy with shampooing his hair, and he feels them stop for a second but only for a second.

"With that? Ney is usually right, when he says something that isn't about Messi and his beautiful ass."

"When he said we have a lack of communication in our relationship."

"That is nothing new, is it? You are not one to communicate that much."

"I know it's nothing new. I can't talk and you can't listen." Rafa's hands withdraw from his head, but Marc doesn't back up, not this time. Rafa is too important to him.

"I don't mean to insult you," Marc says, quickly. "I know we don't fit, and I know we are both difficult and exhausting and I am sorry when all the things go wrong, I am sorry if you think that I don't like your parents and Thiago and your sister because I do, I really do. I didn't mean to be fake or not be who I am, but I couldn't be anything else in that moment."

Rafa stares at him for a few long seconds.

"I love you," he says. "I love you Marc-André ter Stegen so I don't fucking care if it seems like this won't work out because it will."

Marc leans forward to press his lips against Rafa's, and the shower is still running and the world is still spinning and they are still kissing. It might be alright. It might not.

"I love you, too," he says because if he knows one thing, he knows this.

 

~

 

Rafa says _I love you_ all the time now, and Marc does, too. They spend their evenings with Neymar and Leo and Ivan and Geri and Dani and Masche or they spend their evenings alone in Rafa's flat, panting and drawing with cold and warm colours all at once. They go back to the parks and Marc doesn't count the sips and bottles of booze he drinks anymore, only sometimes, when he doesn't feel well and needs to feel the exactly tipsy but not out of control state.

Not much changed. He introduced his professor to Rafa, and Rafa's paintings are beside Marc's in the little art exhibit now. Rafa smiles everytime they visit it, hand in hand, Marc in one of his blue or green polo shirts and tight, expensive jeans, and Rafa in his old and ratty clothing. Nobody minds it and they don't either, not anymore. Rafa still paints Marc all the time and Marc still draws in warm colours. Marc still does the dishes and Rafa still forgets the exact recipes. But Marc meets Rafa's family again, and this time his smile isn't fake anymore, and they talk when one of them is angry or upset or happy. Marc still can't talk and Rafa still can't listen, but they try. They try and sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't.

Neymar still says that they don't fit, and maybe they don't, but Marc can't feel himself to care that much, not when he is happy, not when he is out of control everytime he looks into Rafa's deep brown eyes, but he doesn't mind.

They are not perfect, but they wouldn't be them if they were.


End file.
